At The Stroke of Twelve
by Solo Ensemble
Summary: Elizabeth runs out of her wedding to Lucky Spencer only to find Jason Morgan, still suffering from amnesia, lurking behind the church.


**Note: **Slightly AU. Elizabeth - sans Cameron - is marrying Lucky in a beautiful nighttime ceremony at The Queen of Angels Church; Jason has lost his memory and completely cut himself off from The Skeezer That Whored Up Port Charles. Enjoy.

** Prompt: Only Innocent In The Dark At The Stroke Of Twelve**

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Her wedding dress fit like a dream. With an ornate fitted bodice, an elegant veil that fell to the floor, a full, flowing skirt, and a long train, it was absolutely spectacular.

_Cinderella, eat your heart out. _

Elizabeth's mouth pinched to the side as she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked perfect. Well, almost perfect. With a sigh, she reached over to her vanity and picked up a stunning arrangement of red roses tied with a white satin bow.

There. _Now_ she looked perfect.

Then why the hell didn't she _feel_ perfect?

This was, after all, the happiest day of her life. She was marrying her childhood love in a fantasy wedding; after years of trials and tribulations, their love had survived the test and they were finally here, in the House of God, ready to exchange vows and become husband and wife. Lucky Spencer was a good man and always had been – well, with the exception of when he slept with her sister. But bygones were bygones, or so she told herself.

A knock on the door interrupted her silent reverie and Elizabeth looked over to see her best friend grinning at her. The Cassidine Princess – soon to be ex-Princess, thanks to her husband's adulterous trysts – quietly shut the door behind her and just stood still for a moment, taking her best friend in.

"Hey."

A smile tugged on Elizabeth's lips, painted to perfectly match her classic nosegay. "Hi, Em." Her friend just smiled back, still staring, and the brunette looked at her curiously. "What?"

Emily's small smile turned smug. "You're gettin' married."

The brunette bit her lower lip and managed a tremulous smile. "I know."

"You look beautiful."

The harsh lights in the room beat fiercely down on her as Emily made her way across the room toward the bride-to-be. Elizabeth let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and set her nosegay down on the vanity before sinking down on a lush sofa. Emily meticulously arranged the skirt of her dress and the long veil before joining her, and Elizabeth forced herself to smile at her best friend.

Her matron of honor looked stunning in a golden bronze floor-length gown that brought out the warmth in her sparkling hazel eyes. "Just an hour to go – can you believe it?"

Elizabeth clasped her hands together and grinned tightly. "Yeah…just an hour."

"One hour until you and Lucky are husband and wife," Emily sighed dramatically. "The wedding is going to be absolutely beautiful, Elizabeth – and you guys are going to be so happy together. Oh, I can't believe this is happening!"

"Me, neither," Elizabeth got out, having finally settled upon that as being an appropriate reply. Emily continued to chatter on about how the hall was done to perfection and how the guests would be arriving soon; everybody that was _anybody_ had managed to wrangle an invitation to what would undoubtedly be the wedding of the year. The son of Port Charles' legendary Luke Spencer marrying the granddaughter of the esteemed Steven Hardy – the two of them were a match made in heaven, as Elizabeth was told over and over again. Not even death could diminish their love for each other.

A fairy tale wedding.

How often had she heard that phrase? Too many times to count, that was for sure. Playing with her clean, bare nails as Emily continued to prattle on, Elizabeth thought back to when she and Lucky had first broken the news of their engagement. It had been a small gathering – just her, Lucky, Gram, Nikolas and Emily, Luke and the other Spencers – at a banquet table at the Grille. She and Lucky had waited until drinks and dessert were served before rising from their seats and announcing their plans to wed.

When their own table erupted in loud cheers of congratulation, so had the rest of the Grille. Elizabeth and Lucky had both been astonished when eavesdropping patrons sitting at other tables had added their hearty voices to the melee, and the news spread like wildfire in the gossip-starved town. She and Lucky couldn't go anywhere without someone offering them best wishes or wanting to look at the ring.

And now that the big day had arrived, it seemed that hardly anyone could contain themselves. The Spencers and Webbers were ecstatic, as was the rest of the town or so Emily told her. The Quartermaines were to be out in full force, and the support of the most influential family in town had everyone else vying for invitations.

It was all certainly very flattering, to see everyone so excited and invested in this wedding, but Elizabeth couldn't help wonder if everyone was just buying into the fairy-tale motif that practically made her gag. She and Lucky had fallen in love as the whole town watched. When Lucky had 'died' in the fire, the denizens of Port Charles had again watched her trying furiously to hold it all together as she spoke at his funeral. And when he returned from Helena's possession, it had seemed as if the entire town had held its breath as the two of them tried to reconnect and rekindle their romance. So many obstacles had been flung their way, and yet, here they were, ready to enter into the covenant of marriage. Forget the dress, forget the church, forget the wedding – the story of their love itself was a fairy tale.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, frowning, and was brought back to the present by her best friend's voice.

"Oh, Elizabeth." Emily leaned in quickly and gave her friend a tight but careful hug, mindful not to ruin her hair or displace any part of the intricate gown. "This is going to be perfect. Everyone's waited so long for this to happen. You and Lucky are going to be so happy together." She lingered for a moment, her arms around her friend's shoulders, and missed the wince that contorted Elizabeth's full lips. Pulling back, the Princess briefly touched her forehead to the bride's and stood up. "Okay, I'm going to get out there – it's almost time. See you in a bit."

Flashing her a quick smile, Elizabeth watched as her friend left the room. The tight grin dropped off her face with the click of the door, and the bride-to-be stared around the dressing room at the bright, garish flowers, overly embellished furniture, and the harsh lighting.

It was almost time.

* * *

Jason slipped out the side exit of The Queen of Angels, trying to keep out of sight. When his motorcycle had led him to the massive cathedral, he had stepped inside for a moment's solitude and peace. But after wandering around the second floor balconies, he had realized that there was some sort of lavish function planned. Closer inspection told him it was a wedding. The entire place was decked out in red roses and white candles, and he'd occasionally see what he assumed to be the bridal party rushing about. 

And so he had stayed for a few minutes longer before deciding that it was time to leave. His motorcycle boots clicked on the stone steps as he descended, and that was when Jason spotted the Quartermaines stepping out of their limousine. Frowning, he ducked out of sight and watched them proceed to the entrance. Several gleaming luxury cars waited behind the limo, their passengers also anxious to enter the church. Whoever was getting married had to be really important for the entire town to show up like this.

It was a good thing he hadn't parked his bike in any of the lots otherwise he'd never make it out without being noticed. No, instinct had him parking on the grass under the shade of two willow trees a few paces from the country road he had followed here that passed along the rear of the church.

The moon hung full and low in the sky as Jason lingered by the side of the massive church, watching as other guests walked in. All of them were dressed in their finest – men in tuxedos and expensive suits, women in evening gowns, furs and their finest jewelry. Yeah, this was sure to be yet another one of those hoity-toity weddings he had heard was so popular in this two-bit town.

Giving up on the spectacle, Jason turned around in the dark and made his way slowly around the side of the church toward where he knew he had parked his bike. He could barely see the metal glittering under the moonlight, and Jason quickened his steps. The voices at the front of the church were growing louder as joyful guests mingled in the open foyer, and he just had to get away.

His keys were in his hand as he reached the bike, and Jason expertly straddled it, more than ready to leave. The enforcer was just about to slide his keys into the ignition when he heard a pair of heavy doors being flung over, and then the dainty clatter of high heels on a stone floor.

He looked up from the bike and was entirely unprepared for what stood several paces before him. A young woman had just burst out of the rear doors of the church – and not just any young woman, either.

No, this was the bride herself.

She was tiny, delicate, and looked even more fragile given her distance and the glowing white dress that wrapped around her nymph-like frame. Her hair was dark and put up in an elaborate set of twists under her veil, and it gleamed a rich chocolate color under the gentle starlight. The dress – long, white, something out of a Brothers' Grimm story – was elaborate and intricate, the pristine white presenting a stark contrast to the dark, barren night that surrounded them.

She wasn't looking were she was going, and Jason could only hold his breath as she all but flew down the stone steps and onto the grass. She held her dress high around the knees, showing off a pair of shapely porcelain legs and delicate feet encased in matching white stilettos. The woman moved with grace, but there was a marked apprehension in her movements.

His wide eyes were glued to her, the enchanting little doe. She trotted over the wet grass, muttering under her breath and occasionally pausing for the briefest of moments to rearrange her hold on her flowing skirts. Finally gathering the fabric up in her fists, the young woman looked up and saw him.

Jason could see the shock written on her face as she stopped stock-still. Neither one moved. His hands were wrapped tightly around the handlebars; hers still clutched that elaborate gown, though her grip was loosening.

The fabric slipped from her dainty fingers, falling gracefully to her feet and hiding those wicked stilettos from his view. Jason's gaze swept over her, taking in the carefully arranged hair, the decorated bodice that clung to her feminine curves and offered a very appealing view of her modest cleavage, and the full skirt and wispy veil.

Elizabeth's heart had found new lodging in her throat. Jason Morgan, her one-time almost-lover, sat straddling his beloved bike not three paces away from her. He was dressed in his jeans, a cranberry t-shirt and that leather jacket. She was wearing a wedding gown. And yet here they were.

She could feel his eyes burning a trail over her body and she shivered involuntarily, feeling tears prick at the back of her eyes for the first time since she had decided she couldn't go through with this wedding.

He seemed to realize that he had been staring and licked his lips, those incredible blue eyes darting uneasily around the thicket. "Con…Congratulations."

It was the stupidest thing he could have said, and she saw him wince as soon as the word left his mouth. Her hands trembled as she whisked an errant strand of hair out of her face, and Elizabeth couldn't help but volley back with an equally inane reply.

"Best wishes."

Confusion flickered across those unearthly blue eyes. "What?"

"Best wishes," she repeated in a breathy voice, feeling faint already and having no idea why she was still talking. "You offer congratulations to the groom and best wishes to the bride…"

Her voice trailed off and Jason nodded once, noticing the way her chin quivered. Large sapphire eyes, carefully emphasized with mascara, false lashes, and liquid liner appeared glassy under the starlight, and he could feel something in his heart stir for the bride before him.

"Shouldn't you be getting married?"

He could see her swallow hard; see the ripple of movement down that elegant, swan-like neck of hers. Her hands shook visibly as she raised her arms slowly, wrapping them lightly around her midsection in defensive posture.

"I…I can't do this."

Any of it. She just couldn't do any of it. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life – her one day to be Cinderella and have her fairy godmother grant her every wish – and instead it turned out to be one of her most miserable. Her marriage to Lucky wasn't happening, that much was clear, and here she was, standing in the dark outside a beautiful church talking to her ex-boyfriend who probably had no idea who the hell she was.

He was watching her with a stoic gaze, but she could see the sympathy peeking through. "You want to go?"

It wasn't so much a question as a statement and Elizabeth turned her face away miserably.

"I have nowhere to go."

The words struck a forgotten chord deep within him and Jason let out a heavy, rattling sigh. His grip on the handlebars tightened. "I have a bike…" He had no idea why he was sitting here talking to this mystery bride with commitment issues, let alone why he was offering her his help. But something lying latent in those magical sapphire orbs held him entranced, and he was powerless against the deep concern and surge of protectiveness that ran through him.

She was looking at him curiously through wide, wet eyes, and that plush lower lip of hers was trembling. Clearing his throat gruffly, Jason fought to finish his sentence. "I mean, I can…get you out of here if you want me to."

"I want you-to," she got out, choking on the last word. "I really want you to."

He nodded once, as if it were as easy as that, and beckoned her toward him with one hand outstretched. She was shaking; he could see the tremors running through her tiny body. But before he could offer any words of reassurance, the slim brunette was picking up her skirts and hesitantly creeping toward him.

Jason watched her approach warily, wondering how she planned to deal with that dress. He shouldn't have been surprised, though – the girl obviously knew her way around a motorcycle. She lifted her dress, revealing those lovely white stilettos, and was about to climb on before something else occurred to her.

He watched as she dropped the dress and took a step back, reaching for her veil. The wispy fabric came off with one good tug, also dislodging her careful array of hairpins. The brunette let it fall to the ground and shook her hair free, allowing a river of dark, sinful waves to cascade down past her narrow shoulders.

The veil was left forgotten on the thick, dewy grass as the bride-not-to-be gathered up her voluminous dress once more. Jason's eyebrows shot up when she lifted it well up to her mid-thigh and bunched it up before straddling the bike like a pro. The corner of his mouth hitched up as he waited for her to fasten her helmet, and when her slender arms slid around his waist, he started the bike and revved it up.

The church bells rung out the hour as the bike purred to life. Jason pushed back the kickstand with a smooth backward motion of his boot and Elizabeth's fingers dug into his flesh. The familiar sensation of being on the back of Jason Morgan's motorcycle – by God, how many years had it been? – overwhelmed her and she tightened her grip on his waist.

_At the stroke of twelve the spell will be broken._


End file.
